You and Your White Horse
by freakyfresh
Summary: I prayed to God that I was going crazy, but as I turned to glance at the bedroom door I knew my prayers weren't answered. Shit. "Elena?" His velvet voice instantly reviving the butterflies in my stomach that had been dead for 2 years. Fasten your seatbelts, folks. We are in for a bumpy ride.
1. Chapter 1

Socialization. From the time of birth a child is taught the proper way to act, the norms of the culture, what is right and wrong in the eyes of everyone else. I like to call it cultural brainwashing. Everything is dictated to us. What to think. How to act. As I look at the crowd of people dressed in black I wonder if they even had to think about it, or if it was just second nature. Funerals and black go hand-in-hand in America.

People like to think that they are individuals who are capable of making their own decisions. I've got news for you buddy. Everything about you, your values and ethics, are a carbon copy of your parents, grandparents, whoever the hell helped you through life. That is why it hurts so much. Everything I do reminds me of who I learned it from and on a day like today? I hate it. I hate that I mindlessly dressed in black without giving it a second though. I hate that everyone keeps looking at me the same expression. Pity.

If one more person asks me-

"Elena! There you are. I have been searching high and low for you. Oh my!" my great Aunt Beth puts a hand to her chest, her eyes well up with tears, and she gives me that smile. Oh God…here is comes. "You look _just_ like your mother. God rest her soul."

I force a tight smile on my face.

"How are you doing?" Her head is tilted slightly to the right, a mask of sympathy firmly in place. From the outside looking in she appears genuine. However, I know for a fact this woman despised my mother simply because she was better than her low-life daughter, Cindy. Heaven forbid, Aunt Beth isn't better than everyone else.

"Fine."

"Oh you poor dear!" Foreseeing her intentions, I put a hand in front me in and take a step back.

"Look, we really don't have to do this. I haven't seen you for what? Ten years? So let's not pretend that there is some deep family bond between us."

"I beg your pardon!" She looks appalled. Honestly, I don't know why. My tone was calm and rational. No need for her to get her granny panties in a bunch.

"Now, Aunt Beth. No need to get offended." My tone oozes false sympathy for this poor woman and I place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Between us girls, I would stop frowning. It causes wrinkles and from the looks of it you can't afford more." Her utter shock causes me to smirk.

"Elena!" The guy with the mortified expression, is my Uncle Ric.

Oh boy….This is the part where I have to do the necessary, yet exasperating, task of explaining my family history. Calm down. It isn't that exciting. My mother, Miranda, was the most beautiful woman in the world. I know, I know _every_ kid says that about their mother but this is the honest truth. When she was seventeen she met my father, Grayson. They feel madly, deeply, and passionately in love. It was one of those epic love stories. Really. It could warm the heart of a vampire. Back to the point. I'm assuming you are quite intelligent and can piece together the rest of the story based on key words. Disapproving Parents. Military. Justice of the Piece. Deployed. Preggers. Death.

From that point on, my mother's brother, Ric was our solid rock. He supported my mother as she grieved the loss o my father, helped raise me, and was/is a vital piece of the Gilbert family puzzle

At this point, that is all you need to know.

"Aunt Beth! What a delight to see you!" Liar. "It has been far too long." Liar.

"Why don't you come sit down and we can catch up." Ric casts me a disapproving glare before disappearing into the crowd with my simpering Aunt behind him.

Sigh. I'll be hearing about that later.

The sound of a door shutting brings me back from my thoughts. I find myself in my mother's room, her smell invading my senses. Lilacs and honey. Grabbing her favorite throw from the end of her bed I snuggle into the chair placed before the bay windows. She always did have the best view of the mountains.

Grief and its five fucking stages are deceptive. One moment you can be flying high on the happy cloud of denial and the next crashing down to the earth of reality. You can go from living to barely surviving. Either way, there is a constant pain that never dulls. Your brain simply learns to ignore it, like how your brain ignores an odor after ten seconds of smelling it. Except this is a longer process, like Pavlov conditioning a dog long.

I don't know where I went, my thoughts had run away from me again. All I know is I felt him before I saw him. I prayed to God that I was going crazy, but as I turned to glance at the bedroom door I knew my prayers weren't answered. Shit.

"Elena?" His velvet voice instantly reviving the butterflies in my stomach that had been dead for 2 years.

Fasten your seatbelts, folks. We are in for a bumpy ride.


	2. Chapter 2

No matter how strong a person is, there is always a weakness. Superman, he is a badass. He can fly, has super hearing, super strength, super speed. Everything about him is super. When it comes to kryptonite he is rendered powerless. Look at Iron Man. He could be overtaken by a hacker who has nothing better to do than to live in his mother's basement and make computer viruses. Me? Mine is Damon Salvatore. There he stands, in the doorway of my mother's room, looking ruggedly handsome with his gray slacks and cobalt blue dress shirt. The fact that he isn't wearing black doesn't escape me. He was never a conformist.

"I see I have found your hiding spot." He attempts to cut through the tension.

"Looks that way." I adjust the blanket in my lap before returning my gaze to the mountains.

Without invitation he sits on the window seat in front of me.

"How are you do-"

"Don't." His lips form a tight line and I release an exasperated sigh.

"Ric is looking for you. Some distant relative wants to see you." What a sweetie. Back for what? 5 seconds? And he is already playing messenger boy for Uncle Ric. "I suppose they want to offer their support."

My callous scoff causes him to raise his eyebrow.

"Where was there support when my mother was alive?" I cast a glare his direction.

"Elena, they-"

"You know, I used to think that funerals were for the family. Now I realize that it is for others to ease their guilty conscience. To make up for the fact that they didn't give a damn when the dead was alive." Damon looks away from my fiery gaze and runs a hand through his hair. A part of me wants nothing more than to bury myself in his arms, to find the comfort I know is waiting for me there, but the other part is what's keeping me from doing just that. It is the part that remembers we are not the same people we used to be. If he expected to return to how things were, no questions asked, he is about to get a cold dose of reality.

"I cared, Elena. I still do." Suddenly, picking every single piece of lint off the throw has become priority numero uno. "Everything has been hectic, with just getting out of the-"

"Just getting out? _Just_ getting out? It has been 8 months, Salvatore. Wanna try bullshit story number two? Maybe it will be more believable." A mixture of shame at getting caught and surprise flash across his face. I feel embarrassed at spilling my secret so I flee the chair to stand at the opposite end of the bay window.

So I kept up with his life, sue me.

"Stefan spoke to you, I assume." His voice was deep and breathy. I may not be his biggest fan at the moment, but even I can acknowledge how sexy he is.

"We talk from time to time. Apparently, law school is quite the workload. As a result, our communication is limited."

"I'm a jerk. I should have called." I jump slightly at the feel of his hand on my shoulder. When we were younger….Gah, I wish I could explain it. My other half? Best buds? Call it what you want but a breath couldn't be released, a memory couldn't be made, without one another's presence. Our world's revolved around each other. Even with how things have been between us the past few years, I always thought we would be there for each other. Don't ask what made me think that. Perhaps our history, perhaps my heart's wishful thinking. All I know is that whenever news of my mother's diagnosis with stage 4 Breast Cancer started to get around, I secretly waited for weeks for a phone call from Damon. The challenges those first weeks held were the hardest I have ever had to bear. Uncle Ric tried to be there for me, but I held him at a distance. Looking back, I know it was because he wasn't Damon. Excuses were made for him, by yours truly. I figured phone access must be hard to find in the part of the world he was located. When Stefan informed me that he had returned to USA 2 month's prior all excuses lost their hold.

I shrugged off his hand and turned to face him. "Don't sweat it. It isn't like a call from you would have magically made things better." Liar. It would have made _everything_ better. The hurt I caused him by that statement failed to bring me the satisfaction I expected.

"I suppose not." Damon mumbled. He offered a small smile before turning to leave. I let out a shaky breath. Thank God, that wasn't as painful as it could have been.

"Can I ask you a question?" I spoke too soon.

"Sure."

"Why did you write me letters?" He casually leans against the doorjamb looking every bit the gorgeous man he has become.

I let out a puff of air and plow to hand through my hair. "Because I was stupid. And in love with you." I bravely meet his gaze at my admission. His expression is unreadable except for the slight drop of his jaw. "You had just joined the Army and I was worried about you. I..I wanted you to feel supported. I thought it could fix whatever I had done to make you not want to be a part of my life anymore." I release a small laugh "It sounds ridiculous now. But when you are young and stupid…."

His lack of response increases the level of tension in the room tenfold. I turn my attention to my fidgeting hands.

"You were in lo-"

"We aren't talking about this." I state in a stern voice.

"Fuck, Elena. Why didn't you tell me?" He radiated with determination, irritation, and awe.

"Yep, _still _not talking about this Damon." I match his approaching steps with my retreating ones.

"I had a right to know!" Oh so we are yelling now? Awesome. I can do that too.

"You had a right to know?" No longer am I retreating. Next thing I know I am standing arms distance away from him in the middle of the room. "You don't have a right to anything. That piece of information was mine to keep."

"What if I felt the same way?" I have never been the violent type. But apparently today is a new day because God himself couldn't have kept my hand from slapping Damon's across the face.

"What the hell is your problem?" Damon's hand tried to sooth his burning cheek.

"You can't just say things like that!"

"Yeah, well you can't go around hitting people!" His anger matches mine. When we fight, we fight World War III style.

"What are you doing here, Damon? Out of all the times you could have come, why are you here now?" A feeling of defeat and exhaustion creeps into my heart and spreads throughout my body. This is too much doom and gloom for one day.

"I wanted to see you, 'Lena. I thought you could use a friend." His voice, that was so sincere, pulled at my heart. I need to get out of here. The emotions of the day's events are about to take their toll and I do not want to be in Damon's presence whenever they do.

"I could have used a friend two years ago. I could have used a friend six months ago. Where were you? No where to be found." Tears cloud my vision and I back away when he tries to grab my arm. "I was falling a part. I needed you to be here. I needed my best friend. My mother was dying and you didn't care! You didn't care at all!" A sob escapes my mouth. I grab the back of the chair to steady myself.

A look of pain washes over his face at my words. "Elena, I-"

"Is everything okay in here?" We both jerk our heads to see Uncle Ric standing in the doorway, concern etched on every crevice of his face.

"Everything is fine." Despite my emotional state my voice is alarmingly calm. "Get out." I turn my attention back to Damon, forcing myself to stand strong.

"Elena," He tries to reach for me again, but I avoid his grasp.

"Get out, Damon Salvatore, or I swear to God you will be leaving with more than a bruised cheek."

With a despondent sigh, he nods his head and leaves the room.

"Elena, what just happened?" At my pleading look Ric rushes to my side and envelops me in his arms. The tears begin to flow at a rapid pace no matter how hard I try to stop them. His soothing voice is in my ear whispering encouraging words as my world crumbles around me. I am drowning in sorrow. I want this to all be some horrible nightmare, but as I turn my watery gaze to my mother's empty bed I know that my new reality is a horrible nightmare.

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**I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**3 LieghAnna**


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